


Khan Worms?

by JU5TU5



Series: The Adventures of Anton and the Doctor [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Happy Ending, OMC - Freeform, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 22:05:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10706082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JU5TU5/pseuds/JU5TU5
Summary: Anton Chambers is a lonely, depressed 17 year-old boy who spends his days and nights hidden away in his room. That is, until the Doctor appears in his room one day and promises to help. A deeper plot is revealed when the Doctor scans Anton, and it's up to the pair to save the Earth from an old race called the Srais. (sorry, I suck at summaries... but this is worth the read, I promise)





	Khan Worms?

**Author's Note:**

> I've been bingeing Doctor Who lately and found myself inspired to write this, with the Eleventh Doctor, of course. He's my favorite. Though I do have special places in my heart for Nine and Ten. Anyway, please enjoy, and please be gentle, this is my first fic in this fandom!

A loud, wheezing whooshing sound startles Anton from his corner. An unseen wind whips papers around his room as a blue box slowly phases into being in front of his eyes. A blue light on the top of the box casts a glow on the boy’s room. _Rather eerie,_ Anton thinks to himself, but he doesn’t say it out loud. Instead, he scrubs at his face, trying to remove any trace that he’d been crying like a little girl. He doesn’t know who’s inside that box, but he wants to look as intimidating as possible.

“Hello?” Anton calls, his voice frustratingly weak. He waits and waits, but no one emerges from the box.

Just as he’s about to knock, the door opens and a tall, skinny man practically leaps out at him. “Well, hello there!” The man says excitedly.

Anton narrows his eyes. “Who-” his voice cracks and he clears his throat, “who are you?”

“I’m the Doctor,” the man says, a weight to his words that doesn’t seem to fit with the statement.

“Doctor who?” Anton crosses his arms tightly across his chest. His eyes are still burning and he knows his cheeks are puffy, but he puts on a well-practiced mask and stares down the man in front of him.

Said man, the so-called Doctor, doesn’t answer. Instead, he looks closer at Anton as if noticing something for the first time. His eyes take in everything about the boy, from his anxiety-tousled hair to his bedclothes to his shaking hands. “Are you alright?” The Doctor asks gently.

Anton tightens his crossed arms. “I’m fine. Now answer my question. Doctor who?”

“Just the Doctor.” The Doctor crosses the short distance to Anton, eyes and head moving together to get a closer look at the boy. Anton stands stiffly at first, not knowing what to do. Then he meets eyes with the Doctor and to his utter horror, he starts crying again. There’s something about the man’s eyes, something incredibly sad...

The Doctor’s brow furrows, confused and concerned. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” Anton angrily wipes his eyes.

“It’s most certainly not nothing. You looked like you’d been crying when I walked in, and you started crying when you met my gaze,” The Doctor says with a frown.

Biting his lip, Anton scrubs at his face again. “It’s your eyes,” he blurts before he can stop himself. “They’re so damn sad. You came bouncing out of that box like an energetic toddler and your smile is so bright, but it’s a facade; it’s all in your eyes. They’ve seen so much, haven’t they?” More tears run down Anton’s cheeks unbidden. “I looked into them, and I saw pain. Pain like what I have in my head. And I don’t know… I guess I was just already so raw that seeing your pain brought out mine.”

For a moment the Doctor looks unbearably chagrined. He’s almost about to say something, then seems to think better of it and his expression shifts. “Wait, what do you mean, your pain? What’s happened?” He asks. To both people’s horror, Anton’s face crumbles at the question. The Doctor is quick to backtrack, hitting himself in the forehead. “Oh, that was insensitive, wasn’t it? I’m sorry. Normally I have someone to tell me these things, but now...” he trails off, looking sad, but in a moment it’s gone and the concern is back. “Anyway. You don’t have to answer me if you don’t want to.”

Anton scrubs his face again and shakes his head. “No, it’s okay. It’s just that I don’t know. Not really. I’m just sad.”

“Why are you sad if you haven’t got anything to be sad about?” The Doctor asks, head cocked. Though it seems that he’s only half addressing the question to the boy in front of him.

“I dunno,” the boy says, looking pained. “My shrink says I’ve got depression, that I don’t need a reason to be sad, but I dunno. I’m in so much pain all the time, how can there not be a reason? I think I’m just defective or something.” Anton sniffles. He can feel tears prickling the corners of his eyes, but just as he feels hopeless bringing this up, he remembers the man’s name. “Oi, wait, you said you were a Doctor, right? Can you help me?”

The Doctor flashes Anton a bright smile. “I don’t know. But that’s half the fun, isn’t it? Not knowing? Anyway, come along, let me see what I can do.” With this, the Doctor takes the boy’s arm and tugs him into the blue box.

Anton gasps. “It’s… it’s bigger on the inside,” he whispers in wonder. A huge smile creeps its way onto the boy’s face. “This is like something out of one of my books...”

At that, the Doctor stops, whipping around. An equal grin finds it’s way across his face. “You’re a writer? Brilliant! Been a long time since I’ve met a writer.”

Anton smiles at him, taking the opportunity at their pause to look around the room. “Yeah, I love writing. How does this work, though? It’s so big in here, but it’s gotta be… what? 3 by 3 by 9 foot? No way all of this fits into that. Not with human technology, that is.”

“Oh, you’re clever. That’s because this isn’t human technology. It’s a TARDIS,” the Doctor says with a wink.

“A what?”

“ ‘Time And Relative Dimension In Space’. A TARDIS. She takes me anywhere I want to go.”

“So you’re an alien?”

“Yep!”

“What kind, then? What race can make things that are bigger on the inside?”

“I’m a time lord.”

There it is again, a weight to the Doctor’s words that makes them seem more important than they should be. Anton doesn’t have any time to process this, though. The words come through his ears like an ice pick to his brain, blinding him to anything but the pain. The boy screams and drops like a stone, clutching his head.

Pulling out his sonic, the Doctor drops to his knees beside the boy waves it around his head. “What’s wrong?” He asks. No response comes other than another scream. The Doctor pulls the sonic away, looking at the readout. “What? That doesn’t make any sense...” trailing off, he turns the sonic to another setting and waves it around the boy’s head again. The Doctor sighs in relief as the boy stops screaming and goes limp. “Alright. Let’s figure out what’s wrong with you.” Standing, the Doctor picks the boy up and carries him to the TARDIS’ med bay, laying him on a bed. Then he spends a few minutes rifling through some cabinets, coming back with several medical supplies, screening devices, and a blanket. He injects the boy with a powerful sedative first, hooks him up to the devices he dug up and lays the blanket over him. Finally, he takes a seat near the bed, resolving to wait there until the scans come back.

-DW-

It takes a few hours for the results to come in, and the Doctor’s attention had drifted in that time. Only out of hundreds of years of practice do the beeps not startle him out of the chair. He pops up, checking the screens.

  
“No, no, no,” the Doctor says, a grim look passing over his face. “That can’t be. They’re dead.” He checks the scans again, but they give him the same result. “Well, that would explain why it took so long to get a readout...”

  
A groan comes from beside him, and the Doctor looks over at the boy. He started sweating in his sleep, and some of his blond curls have stuck to his forehead. The Doctor brushes them to the side, laying a cool hand on the boy’s forehead. “Doctor?” The boy whispers weakly.

  
“I’m here,” The Doctor says. “Go back to sleep. Trust me, you don’t want to be awake right now.” The Doctor curses himself. That wasn’t comforting.

  
“What’s,” Anton lets out a quiet gasp of pain, “what’s wrong with me? Why does my head hurt?”

  
“Your head hurts?” The Doctor asks, alarmed. He thought he’d taken care of that, at least for now. He waves his sonic about the boy’s head again. “How’s that? Better?”

  
The blond nods. “Better.” He tries to open his eyes but closes them at the harshness of the light. The TARDIS lowers the lights at the silent bidding of the Doctor.

  
“Alright. Can you open your eyes for me? I need to take a look at them.”

  
Anton makes a confused noise, keeping his eyes firmly shut. “I thought you said I should go back to sleep.”

  
The Doctor huffs, looking at the readout on the machines for the third time. “I said that too soon. I need to see your eyes to check something.”

  
“I wanna go back to sleep,” the boy mumbles, trying to turn away.

  
The Doctor places his hand on the side of Anton’s face, moving it back toward him. “Please,” he says, then pauses. “Oh, I just realized, I haven’t asked your name. How rude of me.”

  
“It’s Anton. Anton Chambers. Now, will you let me sleep?” He tries to turn away again.

  
“I’m sorry, Anton,” the Doctor moves the boy’s head to face him again, “but I need you to stay awake for me. I think there’s something inside of you. I need to make sure.”

  
Anton’s eyes fly open at that. “What do you mean, there’s something inside of me? What is it?”

  
“Just give me a minute, I need to make sure.” The Doctor pulls out his sonic, shining it in one of the boy’s eyes. For a just a moment, something flashes from within Anton’s eye, snarling and snapping. It’s gone within the blink of an eye, but it’s enough to confirm the Doctor’s suspicions. “That’s what I was afraid of,” the Doctor says grimly.

  
“What is it, Doctor?” Anton asks firmly.

  
“It’s a member of a race called the Srais. I’ve met them before. I thought they were extinct.”

  
“Well, they’re obviously not,” Anton says as if the Doctor needed a reminder. “But what do they want with me? I’m just a sad, lonely teen.”

  
“That’s exactly why they want you,” the Doctor explains. “They’re parasites. Ohhhh, I should have seen it before! You said that your therapist diagnosed you with depression, yes?” Anton nods. “A lot of other humanoid races have similar afflictions. The Srais use that to their advantage. They know that people who are depressed are much less likely to seek help for their poor health than other people. So they find depressed people and crawl inside their brains, cranking out more and more of the chemicals that make their hosts depressed, eventually driving them either to madness or suicide. Once their host is mad, they can stay inside them and suck them dry until their host is nothing but a shell, and no one is any the wiser. If their host kills themselves, they can suck everything out of the body, leaving room to make the body theirs. Once the family buries their loved one, the Srais pull the body from the ground and use it as their own. Once they’ve used up all the depressed people on the planet, they move on to the next. Sometimes they even come back for the rest of the population, if the race got suspicious.”

  
“So this thing is in me because I’m weaker than everybody else?” Anton whispers. He can already feel himself starting to drown in a fresh wave of self-loathing.

  
“Oh, Anton, that isn’t it at all,” the Doctor reassures him, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t you see? That’s their biggest mistake. The Srais pray on the depressed because they believe them to be weak, but you’re the strongest of them all.” Anton looks at him doubtfully, so the Doctor continues. “How long have you been depressed, Anton?”

  
“...four years,” Anton admits quietly.

  
“Four years!” The Doctor exclaims as if that proves his point. “You see? That’s their mistake. People with depression, they have so much more tolerance for sadness than most. They’re used to it. It may make it easier for the Srais to get away with their plot, but it takes a hell of a lot longer. The average depressed person could live with one of the Srais in their head for a few years and not succumb. I’ve even seen some who lived with the Srais for decades.” The Doctor moves to squeeze both of Anton’s shoulders. “You’re so strong, Anton. From what I’ve seen, your Srais moved in about three years ago. You’ve been living with it all this time, resisting it, even though it’s been dumping enough chemicals into your head to kill an ordinary boy. You’re special, and it knows that. It’s been trying to squash your spirit, but you haven’t let it.”

  
“I guess,” Anton says, though he seems more convinced now. “But if I’m so good at resisting it, how come I passed out earlier?”

  
“You didn’t.” The Doctor moves one of the screens away from the bed. “It recognized the name of the Time Lords; that pain in your head was it trying to kill you so it wouldn’t be discovered. You held on, though. I sent a sonic pulse into your head with my screwdriver. That knocked both it and you out.”

  
“Why isn’t it hurting me now, then? I’m still with you, it should know that.”

  
“I’ve been able to keep it unconscious. It won’t hurt you as long as it’s asleep.”

  
“Can’t you get it out of me, though?”

  
The Doctor goes silent at that, running a strange device around the boy’s head for a few minutes and then looking at the results on a screen above them. “Alright. Now, Anton, I can get this thing out of your head, but it’s dug itself a deep foothold in there. I won’t lie to you. This is going to be very uncomfortable, and it’s going to hurt, too.”

  
“I don’t care,” Anton says. “I just want it out of me.”

  
“Okay, then. Wait here for a moment.” The Doctor moves away from the bed, rummaging in a couple cupboards before coming back. He mixes two different chemicals together, then puts in a third, thicker one, finally loading that into two syringes topped with large needles.

  
“Where, uh, where are you going to put those?” Anton asks, willing his voice not to shake. He’s never liked needles.

  
“The Srais is in your brain. The only way I’m going to be able to get it out of you is if I introduce this compound directly to the source,” the Doctor responds, looking apologetic. “Though, if it makes you feel any better, it will probably hurt more when it’s starting to die than when I put these in you.”

  
Anton groans. “It doesn’t.” But he steels himself anyway, closing his eyes. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

  
Whispering a final apology, the Doctor sticks the needles in on either side on the boy’s head, angling them up from just above his ears. Anton lets out a gasp as the Doctor injects the liquid. “It’s cold, Doctor. It hurts,” Anton all but whines.

  
“I know, Anton,” the Doctor says, pulling the needles out and stroking the boy’s forehead. “But it shouldn’t bee too long, now.”

  
Just as he says that Anton screams, clutching his head. Grimacing, the Doctor keeps stroking the boy’s forehead, trying to reassure him. The shaking starts a few seconds later, and soon Anton is full-out convulsing, screaming and crying the whole time. The Doctor curses and grabs his sonic just as blood starts to leak out of Anton’s ears.

  
“It’s going to be okay, Anton. It’s almost over,” the Doctor whispers, both hands clutching the sonic as he waves it about the boy’s head frantically. “Come on, you little beast, come out of there.”  
Then, as if fearing what he would do if it didn’t, the creature wiggles its way out of Anton’s ear, dropping to the floor quickly and trying to get away.

  
“Oh, no, you don’t,” the Doctor says, grabbing the wiggling Srais with both of his hands and dropping it into a tub of paralysis gel he’d prepared earlier and shutting the lid. Then he wipes his hands off and returns to Anton’s side with a wet cloth. He wipes the sweat from the boy’s face and the blood from his ears, running his fingers through the blond curls as he sets the cloth down to the side. The boy is still crying. “Anton, can you hear me? It’s okay now, I got that thing out of you.”

  
Anton opens his eyes, searching the room wildly until he finds the Doctor. “It was so awful,” the boy says, tears streaming down his cheeks. “It wasn’t just that it hurt physically, but it made me so sad I felt like I was going to die.” He sits up, shoulders hitching as he continues to sob. “And it looks like a bloody khan worm, too,” Anton says, distressed.

  
The Doctor runs his hands down Anton’s face, then pulls him into his arms, letting the boy cry into his shoulder. He resists the urge to ask what a khan worm is. “It’s okay now, Anton.” A black substance runs out of the boy’s ears, which the Doctor simply wipes away. It’s leftover waste from the Srais. “The Srais sensed that it was in danger, so it dumped a slew of chemicals into your brain trying to defend itself. They should work through your system pretty quickly now that it’s gone. You’ll feel better soon.”

  
Sure enough, in about 20 minutes, Anton finally stops crying and pulls away from the Doctor. The boy’s face is incredibly splotchy and there are snot and tears on the Doctor’s jacket, but he doesn’t care. “I’m sorry,” Anton says, his voice cracking.

  
“For what?” The Doctor asks, confused.

  
Anton scrubs at his face with his sleeve. “For being so pathetic, and for ruining your jacket.”

  
“Don’t put yourself down like that,” the Doctor says, frowning. “You fought the Srais out of your head. It dumped so many chemicals in your head, I’m surprised you were conscious for more than a minute. You recovered surprisingly quick, too. It can take days for most to work all of that out of their systems.”

  
For a moment, Anton sits there with his mouth flapping open and shut. Finally, he settles on, “But I ruined your jacket.”

  
The Doctor shrugs. “I have more. And this one will be good as new in a few hours, courtesy of the TARDIS.”

  
“Really?” Anton looks around, studying the walls of the TARDIS as if she would speak to him. “That’s so cool.”

  
“She takes care of me,” the Doctor says with a fond smile. Soon, though, the look fades into something grimmer. “Listen, Anton. If this is too much for you, I can take you home and you won’t have to worry about it anymore.”

  
Anton almost asks what is it he won’t have to worry about, but the Doctor’s words from before come back to him. “We’ve still got to help the rest of the people the Srais have taken over.” Anton puts emphasis on the word ‘we’.

  
“Right,” the Doctor says with a nod. “There are 300 million people still at risk.”

  
“Let’s go, then.” Anton nods back, throwing off his blanket and following the Doctor as he dashes from the room. If the boy is a little unsteady as he chases after the Doctor, neither says anything.

  
\- DW -

“How do we know who’s got a Srais inside of them and who doesn’t?” Anton asks a few hours later.

  
“I’ve set the TARDIS to scan the Earth for all Srais life signs. We should be able to identify everyone who’s been taken over in a few minutes.”

  
“Alright,” Anton says, “but how will we get the Srais out of them? It would take forever to do to each of them what you did to me.”

  
“That’s why we’re not going to be targeting individuals.” The Doctor flips a couple switches on the TARDIS’ console.

  
“What are you going to do, then? Make that chemical you sprayed me with a mist and spray it over entire countries? I don’t think people would take very kindly to that,” Anton snarks.

  
“Oi, I just saved your life,” The Doctor reminds the boy, glancing at him reproachfully, then going back to flipping switches and pressing buttons. “No, I’m not going to gas countries. I’m going to talk to the Srais first.”

  
Anton lets out a breath. “Okay.”

  
The Doctor pauses, looking at him again. “That’s it? No protest?”

  
“Everyone should get a second chance, even if you’re pretty sure that they’re just going to throw it right back in your face,” Anton says with a shrug.

  
“Right.” A contemplative look crosses the Doctor’s face, but he doesn’t say anything further about it. He twists a final knob, then brings a speaker to his mouth. “Srais ship, you are in violation of the Shadow Proclamation. Answer this hail or I will be forced to stop you.”

  
Before Anton can ask what the ‘shadow proclamation’ is, the Srais respond. “We have almost completed our mission. Your efforts will be ineffective.” A voice responds a few minutes later.  
“No. No, that’s impossible.” The Doctor squints at the readout on the screen in front of him. “Alright, now listen up,” the Doctor says, his voice taking on a dark tone. “Maybe you’ve heard of me. I’m the Doctor, and you’ve picked the wrong planet to attack. Retreat immediately.”

  
A loud screech comes from the receiver instead of a response and the transmission cuts out.

  
“Oh, come on,” the Doctor says under his breath before turning to Anton. “They’ve seeded their hosts.”

  
“What on Earth does that mean?” Anton asks, feeling slightly sick.

  
“They’ve laid eggs in the people they’re inhabiting,” the Doctor says grimly.

  
“Oh my god.” Anton’s face turns green. “The one in me didn’t lay any eggs, did it?”

  
The Doctor runs his sonic up and down the boy’s body, looking relieved as he says, “No. You’re parasite free.”

  
“Why not, then?” Anton questions, but seems to be feeling a little better.

  
Frowning in thought, the Doctor turns back to the console, making a couple of adjustments. “Maybe it’s because you’re not physically mature yet. Or the Srais inside you wasn’t mature yet.”

  
“Either way,” Anton says, “I’m just glad I don’t have any eggs in me.”

  
“You should be. They’re nasty little buggers,” the Doctor says.

  
Neither says anything for a bit after that, Anton waiting for the time lord to finish what he’s doing.

  
“Aha,” the Doctor says, finally. He turns to Anton. “Earlier, I figured out an easier way to get the Srais out of their hosts. I’ve hooked the TARDIS’ transceiver into every radio, cell phone, tv, and computer on Earth. When I plug my sonic into the right circuit, it’ll send out a signal that will be unbearable to the Srais, but only perceptible through human ears, forcing them out and killing their eggs. Once they’re out, the Srais will transport their people back to their ship and leave. The Shadow Proclamation will catch up with them before they leave the Sol system.”

  
“What is the Shadow Proclamation?” Anton asks first because the question has been burning a hole in him since he first heard the term.

  
“Basically, the space police,” the Doctor waves his hands, “not important at the moment. They will take care of the Srais. Then we can get you back to your life.”

  
It takes everything in him to not protest when the Doctor says the last part, but Anton knows that arguing right now won’t get him anywhere. “Right,” he agrees.

  
The Doctor nods then plunges his sonic into a socket to his right and presses a button. A loud shrieking noise plays through the TARDIS. It’s terrible, and Anton rushes to cover his ears to block it out. Several minutes later, the Doctor shuts it off, looking apologetic and sad. Anton is pretty sure it’s because he had to kill the Srais’ eggs. He’s about to say something about it when the Doctor exclaims, “It worked. They’re leaving.”

  
“We did it,” Anton says, heaving a relieved sigh.

  
Looking at the readout on his screen one more time, the Doctor smiles at Anton. “We did it.”

  
They both lean heavily against the console, taking a break from all the chaos.

  
“I have to ask,” the Doctor says, breaking the silence, “what’s a khan worm?”

  
Anton laughs. “I don’t think you’d get the reference, Doctor.” And there’s silence for another few minutes. Sooner than he hoped, though, the Doctor is up and running around the TARDIS, plugging in the coordinates to take Anton home.

  
“Wait, Doctor,” says Anton, an edge of desperation to his voice as the TARDIS’ familiar whooshing sound brings him closer and closer to him. “Please, don’t make me go home.”

  
The Doctor sighs. “I’m sorry, Anton, but you’re, what… 16?”

  
“17 and a half,” Anton interrupts indignantly.

  
“17 and a half, right. I can’t take you around with me. You’re too young, and being around me is too dangerous.”

  
“But you’ve gone around with a 19-year-old before,” Anton protests. “I’m only a year and a half younger.”

  
The Doctor stills. “How do you know about that?” He asks, his voice quiet and not a little dangerous.

 

“I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to.” Anton looks down. “I’m a little bit of a touch telepath, especially when emotions are running high. Back when you were trying to get that Srais out of me, you had your hand on my forehead the entire time, and both of our emotions were all over the place. It was a perfect storm.”

 

Though he doesn’t relax much, the Doctor’s tone is softer when he speaks next. “How much did you see?”

  
“Not much,” Anton reassures him. “Snippets of conversation. A blonde girl, a doctor called Martha, a man in a blue coat with a charming smile… a lot of fire. Sadness. Happiness. Mostly just emotions and short snapshots. Nothing detailed.” The boy hangs his head. “I’m sorry, though. I am. I didn’t mean to invade your privacy.”

  
The Doctor lets out a sigh. “It’s okay. You didn’t see much, and I know you didn’t mean to. It’s hardly your fault. It was a perfect storm.”

  
For a moment, there is silence. Anton waits for the Doctor to throw him out, or say something more, but nothing happens. Finally, he decides to break the silence. “So, are you going to send me home?”  
The Doctor studies the boy in front of him. He looks young, but at the same time, he sees the age in the boy’s eyes. So much sadness in such a short life can do that to a person, especially a human. Eventually, the Doctor shakes his head. “No, I’m not going to send you home. I am going to take you there, though, so you can pack a bag.”

  
“Really?” Anton asks.

  
“Really.” The Doctor presses a button on the console, then snaps his fingers and the TARDIS doors open. “Off you pop, then. We’ve got places to be. People to see.”

  
“And trouble to get into,” Anton adds with a smirk. The boy gives the Doctor a quick hug before he dashes off, packing a couple bags faster than he’s ever packed before. He’s back before all the dust has settled in his room. “Let’s go.”

  
“Where do you want to see first? Or when?” The Doctor asks excitedly.

  
“Hold on, this thing can travel in time?” Anton questions.

  
Winking, the Doctor presses a couple buttons and types something into the monitor at his right. “Oh, did I forget to mention that? Yeah, she does. Anyway, where do you want to go?”

  
“Let’s visit someplace new. I want to see another planet.” Anton drops his bags and looks around the TARDIS with a new appreciation.

  
“I know just the place,” the Doctor says with a wide smile. Then, he’s dashing around the ship excitedly, flips a switch, and shouts, “Geronimo!” and they’re off.

 

**Author's Note:**

> In case you were wondering, the idea for the look of the Srais DID come from khan worms, as I was thinking about those earlier today, before I wrote this. Also, Anton's first name is inspired by Anton Yelchin, the late actor who played Chekov in the Star Trek reboot movies. This is, in part, a tribute to him. I hope you enjoyed reading! If you did, please feel free to leave comments or kudos, it really makes my day to see them. Also, I might decide to make more works with Anton and the Doctor, if you guys like this one. If you want to see more, let me know!


End file.
